#lobotomiized

However, Gerda would not be so easily deterred. She was sent here for a reason. The redhead walked down those forsaken halls, her expression giving away no despair, no emotion, directed towards the suffering around her. Her blue-grey gaze was focused and intense. The wails, screams, and laughter of the patients that would drive any normal person to madness themselves fell on deaf ears. Only one thing mattered in this moment.  The heels of her boots clicked on the floor as she strode down the stone floors, sharp eyes carefully searching the glum interior of the place. When she did finally manage to find the man she had been searching for, her eyes narrowed slightly as they bore into the ghastly figure before her. Striding forward, she faced him, holding her hands clasped neatly behind her back. Yet, that was to say, she wasn’t unprepared if things went pear-shaped. The engineer was well equipped with concealed weapons, forged of iron. But this was not made evident as she scrutinized the doctor with her own iron gaze. Her lip curled subtly, and then she finally spoke in her British accented voice, which only proved that she was not from around here. “Monsieur D'Arque,” She began, her voice cold and grave serious. “We need to talk.”

It all hurt and ached... especially his chest. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when the sirens were behind the miata... There had been an accident. That’s right. An accident... Arthur’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he gazed around the room. Things were blurry as he tried to force himself back into the waking world. The room was freezing and the blankets didn’t seem to be quite enough. Given the sound, he recognized he was in the ICU. “Bashful? Grumpy?” His voice was hoarse. His right hand quickly reached up to clutch at his chest while he struggled with his vocals. “Dopey...?” Leopold? No... he wouldn’t be there... He was hurt. They were both hurt... Blinking, Doc tried to give himself a better image of the figures around it. “...Oh no...I...I missed her birthday. I missed Hanukkah too... oh...oh shit...”

“Well I must admit, out of all the villains, as our suppressors would like to call us, I never thought that the great Cruela De’Vil would finally snap to the point of needing our assistance.” He mused, a dark smirk still upon his lips as he handed his father a glass of the crude whiskey that could be found on the Isle before settling into one of the worn chairs of the study. “She’s quite comfortable now that she’s been given the correct dosage.”

“I don’t care what Mom says. Archie is my therapist. Not you. Why should I tell you anything?” Henry questioned, arms crossed. Only Henry and Archie were a part of Operation Cobra. Henry refused to mention anything about it to anyone else yet, at least until he found Emma and brought her to town. Even if he was thinking of telling someone else, it would never be Dr. D’Arque. “Why should I trust you?” Henry questioned, anger and defiance evident in his voice.

The question was always WHEN.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“What’s that song go? Wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole? Maybe make it the full forty. Too bad you’re not into cheer and mirth. You’d make a perfect Grinch. You already got...well you know, I don’t wanna see that body hair.”